By the time I finally finished writing the last damned line, my hand felt like it had been wrung through a medieval torture device.
"I will not put Hailie in danger."
The hundredth one sat there at the bottom of the page, smug as hell. I wanted to crumple it up, throw it at Eirlys' perfect forehead, and scream there, happy now? But of course, I didn't, I'm stupid but not a moron.
The papers lay stacked on my desk, my cramped handwriting making it look like the ravings of some lunatic punished in detention.
Only then did I even remember the plate sitting off to the side. The lunch someone… Uh, I didn't even know who, probably a maid with no name and no interest in me, had dropped off hours ago.
The steam was long gone. The soup had turned into this weird half-jelly state, the rice clumped together like it had been sitting inside a refrigerator.
